Electioneering
by Adam Kadmon
Summary: Make Tokyo-3 municipal junior high school great again.


Electioneering

Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion.

/\/\/\/\

"Thank you for joining me here today. I will strive to be brief. As some of you may have heard, my home was indeed destroyed during the recent attack on the city. Thankfully, no one was harmed, thanks to the evacuation protocols. I wish to personally thank the pilots for protecting us, and limiting damage to the city."

He paused to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"As I said, my home was destroyed, and my family has decided it is in our best interests to leave, at least for the time being. I of course regret leaving now, but it is out of my hands. I have enjoyed serving you, and will endeavor to continue serving in my new home. I regret not being able to see this election out, but I have the utmost faith and confidence that my opponent will put this school and you first.

"We have had our differences, but on the core issues we remain united. So, I wish to formally endorse Ms. Mana Kirishima for student body class president."

Kenji Nishigawa stepped away from the podium as Mana approached from her position from a folding chair on stage. The two shook hands and bowed, exchanging brief pleasantries away from the microphone. Kenji sat in the folding chair, gazing out through thick glasses at the student body filling the auditorium, as his Tokyo-3 academic political career ended.

It was a long, boring election thus far as both candidates strained to show how safely bland and politically correct they were. Nishigawa was a longstanding face in student government, paying his dues and biding his time until there were no other palatable upperclassmen to compete for the presidency. Kirishima was the upstart neophyte who still possessed a modicum of genuine passion. Their arguments were mostly civil, mostly due to the fact they agreed on almost every issue facing the school. Disagreements arose in the minutiae of policy implementation, Kirishima favoring speed that catered to her idealism while Nishigawa opted for a safer gradualism.

Wonks and political junkies might eat up the tepid tone of the election, but for the vast majority of students at Tokyo-3 junior high it was the kind of contest that made no difference in the end, save for getting out of a few mind numbing classes to watch a few mind numbing debates. The sooner it was over, the better.

Kirishima sensed the mood as she took the podium to scattered polite applause. She glanced down at her prepared statement, then deliberately folded it shut. When she spoke it was with the confidence of assured victory.

"Thank you, Nishigawa, for your gracious endorsement. I will endeavor to live up to the example you have set. And my fellow students, I promise not to rest because of this. Nishigawa's unfortunate departure will not alter my campaign of unity and consensus building. I remain steadfast in hearing and advocating your voices to the faculty."

 _God,_ Asuka Langley Soryu thought. _What a tyrannical rancid sack of bitch crap._

She sat in the auditorium with undisguised boredom, forced to waste precious moments of her life as two self-important gasbags polluted the air with flowery pretensions and condescending relation. At least one of them was leaving. But Kirishima remained, poised to become an even more insufferable burden on her existence.

Mana arrived two months ago, gleefully stealing the mystique of the transfer student from Asuka, simply by virtue of being newer. Was the girl another pilot, everyone wondered? Even when her painfully ordinary origins were confirmed, the ignorant masses remained charmed by Kirishima's personality of bubbly sunshine and patience for their aforementioned ignorance. That kind of superficial tolerance for the inanity of her peers, just to be popular and get ahead, was disgusting from a lowly commoner with no real prospects or talents.

She was acting like a saint, pretending to be humble and discreet and empathetic, exploiting the natural attention given to a transfer all while swiftly working her way into the student body's consciousness to get a handle on the reins of power.

She was acting like a politician.

"Just because I am now running unopposed," Mana continued in the auditorium, "does not mean my commitment or platform have wavered. I will redouble my efforts to ensure this school becomes greater than it is, for our collective benefit. I believe together we can raise our academic standards to ensure a more favorable future, as we continue our shared journey through high school and beyond. Together, we can meet this challenge and triumph."

 _Wait a minute,_ Asuka thought. That didn't sound good. While triumphing over challenge was nothing new for her, if anything it was expected and normal, the "raising academic standards" talk triggered alarms. To be polite, Kirishima was ambitious. Where and how that ambition manifested would need to be watched. For the good of the entire school.

The assembly ended, the audience broke up and headed back to classes. On the way Asuka spied a card table set up in the hallway, functioning as a Kirishima campaign stand. On it were stacks of flyers outlining her positions and policies. Asuka snatched one as she passed.

She spent Literature class going over it. As the teacher droned on about dead poets stored in musty tomes somehow being relevant to today's youth, Asuka read through the bullet points of a Kirishima administration. Buried in her self-aggrandizing spiel was definite talk of more, if not harder, schoolwork. Suddenly, the election became personally impactful.

 _Uh oh,_ Asuka realized.

Classes ended. She headed back to the auditorium. Outside the double doors was a small table with a stack of neglected sheets. It was technically the last day for sign-ups in the election, and while a few gag candidates were expected, the majority had resigned themselves to Kirishima's rule.

But Asuka was not the majority.

She strode to the table and signed the name of the next student body president.

/\/\/\/\

She felt better by late afternoon. The concerns of an amped up workload dissolved with each step from school. By the time she returned home to an empty apartment she was fully confident in the future. Even if the other students were too dumb or easily distracted to notice the truth, Asuka would rescue them from Mana's academic tyranny. There was no way Kirishima could win now, not against the elite celebrity power of a pilot.

Asuka treated herself to a frozen fruit dessert and relaxed across the couch as late afternoon Japanese television programming strived to entertain her. She almost brought herself to care about the economic fate of a thin teacher from Okinawa on a bad game show when the front door slid open. She listened idly as Shinji all but tore his shoes off and careened past the kitchen into the living room. His face was drawn and pale, a nervous twitching possessed his body.

"Asuka!" he cried as he saw her. "Something horrible happened!"

"The grocery store was out of maple syrup again."

"No! Someone signed me up to run in the student body presidential election!"

To say she was expecting a different response from Shinji was giving him entirely too much credit. A freak out of some degree was par for the course, though she was hoping he'd handle it with a smidgen more dignity. But with such limited options, she had to make do.

"That does sound horrible," she commented, finishing her pre-dinner dessert with a swift bite. "You in a position of authority would be ghastly."

"I'll just beg them to take me off the ballot tomorrow. I'll explain it was a prank and—"

"Hold on," Asuka said as she sat up. "Take a moment. Think this through. Compared to the other candidate, you may be the less bitter poison. Look at this as an opportunity. You don't want Kirishima to win, right?"

"What? I-I don't know!" Shinji said, his frenzy unabated. "I don't even know her!"

His lack of immediate and sustained disgust for Mana was troubling. That would need to be addressed.

"If she wins," Asuka told him, "it means trouble, specifically for us. She's always droning on and on about 'higher academic standards' which sounds innocuous enough, but it's a dog whistle to the faculty. She's really promoting tougher work for students so the teachers and school can look good. She's selling her fellow students out. She's selling _us_ out."

"What do you mean?"

"As pilots who save the world on a regular basis, who are the elite of the elite, who have proven we're better than everybody else, do you think we should be forced to contend with this school's pitiful, menial, lowest common denominator work?"

"But isn't that what Kirishima's trying to change?"

"Focus, Third. She's advocating tougher schoolwork in the vain hope it'll secure her better opportunities in the future. She does need all the help she can get, but why should everyone else, why should _we_ , suffer for her insecurities? We save her life dozens of times over and she repays us with a heavier workload. Just because she isn't as smart and talented and awesome as I, er, we are, she's punishing the entire school for it. You have to stand up to this injustice."

Shinji did his best to calm down and consider the argument, which inevitably led to him thinking of himself.

"But why do _I_ have to run against her?" he asked.

"You've been at the school for a decent chunk of time; people know you. You don't totally blend into the linoleum like the First. The fact that you're technically male will draw the dumb floozy vote, as well as all the girls who are jealous of Kirishima. And teenage boys will always prefer to be ruled by another boy. Look, you're by no means a perfect candidate, but you're a perfect storm candidate. The stars are aligning for you to humiliate Kirishima at the polls."

Shinji pouted desperately. "But I don't _want_ to!"

The pieces would fall into place for her like they always did. Even if some of the pieces needed gentle persuasion to get in their proper places.

"Stop being stupid," Asuka ordered. "Your pride as a pilot is on the line here. If a select Child can't beat a literal no one for a measly junior high class presidency, you'll demean the entire human race. More importantly, you'll demean me. So I guess I'll have to ensure you win."

"You'll help me?"

Let him cling to that hope. Let it envelope and bolster him.

"I don't see how I have any other option," she told him. "On your own, you'll crash and burn. You being signed up for the presidency will turn into a blessing. I'll force a miracle to happen."

Working and cohabitating with him for as long as she had, Asuka knew Shinji would bend to the will of a confident, authoritative woman, even when facing death from Angels. Or in this case, panic attacks from public interaction. How this miserable, coldblooded, scrap of humanity secured an Eva continued to dumbfound her. But at the moment that tentative link to her own greatness served a valuable goal.

Having run through the ways Kirishima would be a crippling disaster for her way of life, Asuka informed Shinji of his political views. To the uneducated eye, many appeared to be a kneejerk contrarian reaction to Mana's platform but Asuka delivered them with a conviction that erased uncertainty. Shinji did his best to surrender.

"Next, we have to protect the school from dangerous outside influences, to preserve the culture and learning environment we have. So, no transfer students."

"Asuka," Shinji began, " _we're_ transfers."

"Well, obviously, I meant any _more_ transfers. Use your brain, stupid. Kirishima wants tougher work, but is shrewd enough to realize openly admitting that would be political suicide. You'll be running for a lighter workload. We're slaving away under the current system as it is."

Shinji let his confusion show. "So, I just tell people all that? Do I get up on a soapbox outside the front gates or something?"

"Only if you want them to think you're crazy."

"But I'm sure the school has rules about when and how I do this. Is it more involved than the sign-up sheet? Do I need permission? What does the class president actually do?"

All valid questions. None of which Asuka knew the answers to. Not that he needed to know that.

She shrugged his concerns away, telling him not to get bogged down in specifics. She refrained from mentioning his tiny brain couldn't process it all anyways, but as a politician he'd need to work on his confidence. Yet his initial inquiry remained. Being a genius, Asuka already knew the solution.

"We'll get someone to lend a hand."

/\/\/\/\

"Of course I'll help you."

Hikari Horaki smiled pleasantly at Shinji and Asuka before classes began the next day. The school was gently abuzz with the knowledge he entered the race against Kirishima. Those dingbats who hollered at him during gym were already greeting him as President Ikari. Asuka would need to keep a closer eye on the floozy vote.

"Thank you," Shinji said, bowing. "There's a lot about the process we don't know yet, and since you're a representative we thought you might."

"Well, I did technically win an election, but it was just this tiny class, and no one else wanted the job. But I'll tell you everything I can."

"Thank you," he said again.

"Of course she will," Asuka said. "She knows what a calamity Kirishima would be for this school."

"I don't know her personally," Hikari began diplomatically, "and haven't had the opportunity to remedy that. I only know her from the campaign speeches. Although I think she may be taking the position a bit too seriously…"

"Exactly! She's already drunk on power and making crazy promises. It's up to us, as usual, to save everyone."

She missed the look of patient condolences shared between Shinji and Hikari.

Things were coming together. Hikari would iron out the technical details of the campaign with her preexisting relationship with the school's bylaws. Asuka remained the brains of the operation, and Shinji was at best a puppet. All that was left was the off-the-record, "no, I swear we're not coordinating our efforts" PAC.

/\/\/\/\

"No way in hell we're helping you."

Toji and Kensuke scowled at Asuka after classes ended. She cornered them when last period ended, booting Shinji into the city on his own to gather campaign supplies. Risky, but the boy managed to somehow not butcher grocery shopping every week; certainly poster board and markers wouldn't completely upset his cognitive abilities.

That left her to seek out the things he referred to as friends for some under the radar support. It made sense. Employ dirty people for dirty tactics.

"You're not helping me," Asuka told them. She never needed help from anyone. "You're helping Shinji."

"Then why didn't he ask us?"

"Yeah," Kensuke said. "We offered at lunch, but he told us not to worry about it. Still can't believe he's going through with this."

"You're not going to be holding bake sales or passing out flyers," she said. "No, you two are definitely not cut out for the face of the campaign. Think of yourselves as behind the scenes operatives on his behalf."

The term operative intrigued him, but he saw Toji was far from sold. "What would we be doing? For the sake of argument."

"Take some embarrassing pictures of Kirishima. And also bug her campaign office. And dig up some dirt on her past." She saw a lack of comprehension. "What? You're into computers and nerdy stuff. Just… hack into the school or something. Don't complain. It's a miracle I can find a use for you at all."

"And what should I do in this fantasy world of yours?" Toji asked. "Intimidate the opposition? Covert assassinations?"

"You're too clumsy and direct to get away with a crime. What part of behind the scenes didn't you get, oaf? Your role will be to get the sports teams to vote for Shinji."

"Uh, _how?_ "

"You seem adept at hurling that ball through that hoop," Asuka said. "Like a trained dog. The other trained dogs will respond to that and you will convince them like a good boy."

Toji offered a monumental show of fortitude and did not take the bait. "It may shock you to find out athletes think for themselves. We don't share a brain. So there's no way I'd convince every one of them. Besides, we're kind of in a feud with those jerks in soccer over resources."

Casual inspiration struck. The kind only geniuses felt, and graciously accepted.

"Get them to vote for Shinji," Asuka said, "and teams will never have to fight over resources again. He'll make sure of it."

She saw he was sold, despite himself.

"No more fighting for scraps…" He frowned in thought. "Kensuke," Toji announced, "we're now shadow operatives for Shinji."

"This is so cool! Although I'm still not sure what I have to do… This is so cool!"

With a clear master/servant hierarchy established, Asuka left her new dirty tricks department to their own disgusting devices. Although hindered by a late start, the match of wits against Kirishima was now on.

/\/\/\/\

Shinji surprised her that evening by indeed not totally screwing up supply requisition. She'd congratulate him but that implied following simple orders deserved a reward. At best, he operated at baseline competency. If he managed to keep that up, this whole façade candidacy thing would work out splendidly.

They took a break from campaign prep to make dinner, which is to say Shinji worked the kitchen while Asuka battled impatience. Misato returned from NERV during this, slipping into "casual attire" and zeroing in on Shinji's insecurities with greater ferocity than normal. She peppered him with inquiries about the school day with the laser like focus of an antiterrorism interrogator racing the clock to an imminent attack.

Shinji replied with benign non-answers, insisting cooking required concentration. Misato, well aware of the limitations of male multitasking, and quite hungry, backed off until dinner was served.

"Isn't there _anything_ you want to tell me?" she finally asked him as they all sat to eat.

He shrank into a noncommittal shrug. Asuka, sick of the interplay and knowing their guardian would not desist until she thought she had won, relented. Misato had to already know but she seemed intent on hearing it from Shinji's mouth.

"Just tell her."

He folded over his rice. "… I'm sort of running for class president."

Misato sat back in proud satisfaction, smiling at him. "My, my. I never knew you had political aspirations."

"Um, well—"

Asuka kicked him under the table.

"I mean, yes. I have always had political aspirations."

"Well, it could be good for you. You'll meet new people, assert your own ideas and get practice at public speaking."

The prospect of each caused him to pale considerably. Asuka kicked him again.

"Y-Yeah," Shinji croaked. "Looking forward to it."

"You'd better be, Third. Just because your Eva is purple doesn't mean you can remain a shrinking violet."

"I guess that qualifies as support," Misato said, shifting attention to her other ward. "Another surprise. Does that mean Shinji can rely on your help with this brave endeavor? I never knew you had charitable aspirations."

Asuka rolled her eyes. "Ha ha. I'm just making sure he doesn't humiliate himself. It would reflect poorly on the rest of the pilots, and NERV. It's about pride. I don't expect you to understand."

Misato still smiled. "Hmm. I'm sure you can both benefit from this, when all is said and done."

If the hope of mutual gain further propelled Shinji, she was all for it. But in the end, he'd handle all the nonsense of a political office and she'd reap all the benefits. It only made sense. She finally found a use for him.

/\/\/\/\

A week passed. Seven days of Asuka prodding Shinji in the right directions to say the right things to the right people. They needed to act fast to build support and blindside Kirishima's campaign machine before the scheduled debate. The cult of celebrity for pilots was a solid base, but it needed to make inroads with other constituencies. And while many of Nishigawa's supporters flocked to Kirishima, Mana was still technically a new face, and hadn't accumulated enough diehard followers to make her unbeatable. It was anyone's election.

Asuka sent Shinji back to the apartment with Hikari after classes to practice for the upcoming debate, while she lowered herself for the greater good and again willingly met with Toji and Kensuke for an update on their progress.

"The sports teams are lining up to back Shinji," Toji reported. "It didn't take much convincing once resources were mentioned. I mean, sure, a lot of the guys think Kirishima's hot, but they eventually fell in line. We know where our priorities are."

She was thoroughly unimpressed. Jocks and boys were too easy to influence.

"I'd say job well done but the task was too simple to be called a job. At least you didn't bungle it." Asuka turned on Aida. "You came here empty-handed. What about those embarrassing pictures I asked for?"

"I tried," Kensuke lamented. "Kirishima can't take a bad photo."

"That only proves what a terrible shot you are. She looks like week-old carrion melted on her head. You have to have learned something damaging about her, at least."

"I asked around, believe me," he sighed, "but it's all probably stuff you know. She's fairly popular. She has good grades. She's in Drama club, but is already singlehandedly directing its activities. She likes to hang around with her cousin Asari, who was already enrolled here, and his friend Musashi. And she's currently running for class president. Aside from that…" He shrugged. "I could take a peek at her transcripts, but my hopes aren't high. She said she moved here because her dad got a job transfer."

Asuka groaned in frustration. "Keep digging. Such a shiny, spotless package has to be hiding something dark and messy."

"Yes, ma'am!"

She dismissed them and started home to make sure Shinji hadn't bored Hikari to death. Misato was working late, leaving the apartment to her charges. Asuka arrived not to the expected sight of her two lackeys diligently toiling on their given duty, but to the pair of them in the kitchen engaged in dinner prep.

Shinji headed the stove while Hikari took the role of sous chef at the cutting board. She was even clad in the "Hail to the Chef" novelty apron Misato picked up for Shinji. They worked comfortably in close quarters, enveloped by a steamy haze of sautéed vegetables. For a pair with such anxious histories with the opposite sex, Asuka thought they looked a little too relaxed.

"I've been meaning to tell you, Ikari," Hikari remarked as they cooked, "that I'm glad you took an interest in school government."

"It all happened so fast," he replied, "but it isn't as horrible as I thought, I guess."

"Regardless, it's a fine test of responsibility and a great way to get to know people. It's ambitious of you, given your, ah, after school job."

"I can't complain about being idle. Thank you again for your help with all this. Asuka and I didn't really know how involved it would be."

"You're welcome, Ikari."

Asuka tried not to gag. This was how Japanese people really acted in private? She thought being this boringly polite was a cruel stereotype.

"Um," Shinji began, "why did you agree to help?"

"Asuka's my friend," she told him, "but getting the chance to help her is pretty rare. She's usually so self-sufficient."

 _Damn straight,_ Asuka thought. She trained Horaki well.

"And I think I should get to know you better, Ikari," she continued. She smiled at Shinji's confusion. "Here you are, risking your life beside Asuka, and all I have to go on is what she tells me. It, um, it isn't very flattering, to be honest."

He paled.

"She always warned me about you," Hikari went on, stealing a glance at him, "but I think maybe she was exaggerating."

En route to a tomato, their hands touched. Both skittered a step away from each other.

"Sorry."

"S-Sorry."

Asuka cleared her throat to announce her presence. "How's the debate practice going?" she asked.

They both startled. Shinji successfully refrained from dumping supper onto the floor. Hikari nearly sliced her index finger off.

"Asuka!"

"Hi! Uh, welcome back. We didn't hear you come in."

"Obviously. Hikari, what on earth are you doing?" Asuka waved at the kitchen. "All this is his responsibility. You shouldn't butt in."

"It felt wrong not to help…"

Shinji panicked. "No, you're a guest. I should have refused more firmly. Please, let me finish. Thank you for your help."

Asuka pulled her out of the kitchen into the relative privacy of the living room. "So, I'm an exaggerator, huh?"

Hikari was kind enough to be devastatingly embarrassed at her indiscretion. "I-I just meant I saw another side to him! Like, I really was surprised when I heard he was running for class president. I always thought he didn't like dealing with people."

"Interacting with him _is_ the bane of everyone's existence."

"But I have to confess I never spent much time with him," she continued on. "I guess he's just hard to get to know? But helping him with the campaign and cooking with him…" She looked back at him with softened eyes. "He doesn't seem like a bad guy."

 _… the hell is this?_ Asuka thought. She was running a shadow political campaign, not a dating service for chefs.

"Don't go making wild accusations like that. You aren't forced to live with him."

"Of course I don't know him as well as you—" Hikari began backpedalling again.

"I don't know him because I want to. It's business. And I'm only doing all this election stuff with him so he doesn't screw everything up like he always does. Why, even piloting would be a lost cause without me. You have no idea how much pressure is on me because of his inadequacies."

"I think we're getting off-subject," her friend tried to soothe. She shuffled some papers before her. "I've actually been meaning to bring up a few points with you."

"Fire away," she sighed, already preparing a daydream about Mr. Kaji to occupy herself.

"I was looking over the proposals you want Ikari to put forward and I would be remiss if I didn't tell you the numbers don't really add up. Funding all the sports clubs the way you want is technically outside the scope of the president's power, let alone the faculty's, and—"

"Okay. We'll look into it."

"—As well as having a say in how many transfers we accept into the school. There's no way we can simply ban the practice outright—"

"Yuh-huh, yeah. I'll get on that."

"—Forbidding the cafeteria staff from using broccoli because it gives you gas is hardly a—"

"Sure, sure. Good point."

Hikari slumped in defeat. "Can we at least talk about the campaign posters…?"

Until now they operated under a minimalist's aesthetic inspired by necessity. Getting posters up quickly beat any desire for elaborate creation. The stark, black and white "Vote Ikari" signs turned out to be rather effective, compelling obedience through simple directions. Asuka thought the Commander would be proud.

"What's wrong with them?" she asked.

"Maybe we could say 'please vote for Ikari?'"

"Why mess with what's working on the sheep? And there's no way we're adding any photos. We don't have the funding. And Shinji isn't photogenic."

"I don't know about that…" Hikari began.

 _"Moving on,"_ Asuka grumbled. "All suggestions will be taken under advisement by campaign management." Meaning her. Also, under advisement meant discarded entirely. "Thank you for your participation."

She just sighed.

"Dinner's ready!" Shinji called.

So that's what that heavenly aroma was. Maybe she should allow Shinji and Hikari to collaborate in the kitchen more often. Asuka watched how quickly her friend scampered to meet Shinji at the table. Maybe not.

They strategized over the meal. Asuka fed Shinji the lines he would then feed to their classmates during the debate. While she fed herself. No one said a campaign would be easy.

"… Just remember your talking points. Protecting the students already here, lighter work, fairer resource allocation, leadership, strength, blah blah blah."

"What if they ask for specifics?" Shinji posed, still unsure of himself.

"Avoid them. I won't have you bogged down in a policy debate that's over your head. Make them remember who you are. If they don't trust the pilot who saves their lives, who safeguards humanity to do what he says, then who would they trust? Obviously, questioning our plans means they don't have any faith in us as pilots."

Asuka saw polite objections from Hikari and the usual brain-dead bewilderment from Shinji. She cut them both off.

"Just follow my lead and it'll work out. Remember what we've been practicing. Don't stray from the script. We have to make sure the upcoming debate isn't a disaster."

/\/\/\/\

The upcoming debate was a disaster. Shinji fumbled and choked his way through his allotted time at the podium, the AV club's donated microphones struggling to convey his halfhearted mumbles to the student body, which by now was falling into clearly opposed sides.

Kirishima opted not to pounce on the many, many openings for attack Shinji left for her. Whether out of misplaced pity or her own latent incompetence, it appeared Mana was as poor a debater as her opponent. Instead, she stayed loyal to her talking points of higher academic standards as a springboard to higher educational opportunities.

That was fine for Kirishima, Asuka thought, struggling to find a purpose in life as she was, but what about the pilots, who already had a purpose? They shouldn't be forced to suffer for one noisy girl's existential crisis.

But money moved people more than pretty words, as evidenced by how the debate wrapped up: with polite applause for Kirishima and raucous hollering for Ikari. With so many resource allocation promises spread around, his support had grown dramatically in such a short period, despite his public shortcomings. Kirishima could make all the flowery speeches she wanted.

It was still no excuse for personal failure and Asuka worked her way backstage, intent on calmly informing Shinji how displeased she was with his performance and certainly not planning on using her fists or feet to communicate that information at all, when two thirds of the Idiot Trio scrambled over to her.

"What part of behind the scenes do you still not get?" Asuka demanded.

"We are literally behind a scene," Kensuke pointed out.

"We got some info on Kirishima," Toji explained. "Thought you'd want to know as soon as possible."

She frowned, but led them into a discreet corner of backstage architecture. "Fine. Spill it, quick." Shinji was still otherwise occupied; it might be unseemly to be caught with her operatives, by anyone.

"I told you she's already directing the Drama club, right?" Aida began, his enthusiasm waning since their last encounter. "Turns out it was a bit of a hostile takeover. Kirishima and her cousin were twisting arms and sucking up to the faculty to gain control. Seems she's a different person behind the closed doors of the club. None of the members like her, but they're scared of her."

"I expected as much," Asuka said. Miss Perfect was cruelly ambitious in private. Typical politician. "But it doesn't help Shinji. Even convincing the Drama club to rebel would be too little too late. Do not tell me you thought this merited my immediate attention."

Kensuke and Toji exchanged an uneasy glance.

"There's more," Toji muttered.

"I did peek inside her transcripts," Kensuke said, shifting in discomfort. "Turns out she did transfer here because her dad got a new job, like she said. But he went looking for a new job, on the other side of the country, to save his daughter from being harassed. Kirishima was the target of some really bad rumors at her last school."

Asuka was calm. "What kind of rumors?"

"The kind no fourteen-year-old should be associated with." He hesitated in a guilty instance of gravity. "Stuff like wild parties, skipping school, alcohol use and compensated dating. That, I mean, none of that could be true, right?"

"… What do you want to do with this?" Toji asked her, frowning.

It remained a tight race. With a week before voting, Asuka needed an edge. And her foresight and planning delivered one to her.

"Doesn't the voting public have a right to know about the candidates running?" she posed. She saw weakness in her dirty tricks department. Now was not the time for a crisis of conscience. "Don't wuss out now. Disseminate the information. Email, message boards, flyers, gossip, whatever. Get it out."

"But—"

"You're not doing anything wrong," Asuka soothed. "You're no different than investigative reporters, uncovering a politician's seedy secret life."

Uncertainty remained. She had no time for this cowardice. Her mood darkened.

"Do what I say or you will answer to me."

Asuka shoved them away through a side exit. She turned back around the corner and nearly ran into Shinji. A flickering moment of panic caught her.

"How long were you standing there?" she asked.

"Not long."

"Good."

He looked tired, withdrawn and ready to mope. After that debate performance, it was expected, even understandable. But that kind of behavior was unbecoming of a future president.

"Shape up!" Asuka ordered, pinching his collar to make him stand straight. "You did terrible. There is no excuse. What happened to all our practice?"

"Sorry. There were a lot more people than I expected."

"What did I just say about excuses?" She sighed. "Even with all the morons supporting you, you're lucky I'm here to take care of things. I'll find a way to salvage this election for you. Defeat is not an option, so it would be nice if you applied yourself, Third."

"I'll do better," Shinji vowed.

"That's not saying much. But it's the best I can hope for. Remember: you promised."

/\/\/\/\

Asuka scheduled a rally before voting day to seal the deal. Shinji somehow attained a morsel of confidence and volunteered to speak at it, arms untwisted. Asuka was content to sit back and let Kirishima squirm under the weight of the rumors about her now engulfing the school, but Shinji argued he still needed practice at public speaking. Which was very true. And she supposed a few words from the candidate himself would further encourage the ignorant masses.

The auditorium was a boisterous, manic cacophony of loyal support. After a few zealous speakers to get the crowd fired up with vague campaign promises and knowing winks and nods about Kirishima's extracurricular activities, Shinji took the stage. He reached the podium and was forced to wait for nearly a full minute for the applause to subside. He cleared his throat.

"Hello, everyone. Um, thank you all for your support. I never imagined this kind of enthusiasm."

The fervor from the crowd was palpable. The walls shook with their cheers. A section of the floozy vote catcalled the imminent "President Ikari."

"Some of you must have heard the rumors about Ms. Kirishima—"

Not so favorable catcalls erupted. Hoots and hollers, disparaging names and gestures took over the mob. Shinji raised a timid hand, and the tumult quieted.

"I don't want to repeat them, because they shouldn't be repeated. They're…"

He looked out over the throng of warm, accepting adoration. He hesitated only a moment.

"They're completely untrue. Ms. Kirishima is a good person and the rumors about her are not true. They were started by my campaign in a misguided effort to win. I'm sorry to Ms. Kirishima, and I'm sorry to all of you. You deserve to vote for someone who won't mislead you.

"So," Shinji said, "I am withdrawing from the campaign for student body president, effective immediately."

The auditorium was stunned silent. The posters of support and campaign signs lowered as the Ikari loyalists looked at each other in confusion. Shinji left the podium, leaving a swell of bewildered murmurs in his wake. Before he could exit the stage, and before the crowd could erupt into betrayed pandemonium, a clear, thunderous voice broke over everything.

"Are you _stupid?!"_ Asuka screamed from her auditorium seat.

/\/\/\/\

The faculty made the day after voting into an impromptu holiday, citing unprecedented interest and turnout. Normal classes were cancelled for the afternoon after votes were tallied. Despite running unopposed again, Mana won the election on a narrow margin.

President Kirishima was holding a victory rally in the auditorium, complete with performances from Band and Drama. Many of the disillusioned Ikari loyalists had gone home after casting protest votes for Shinji, defiant to the end, and the halls of the school were largely empty. Asuka strode down them alone after seeing the official election results, the sounds of Mana's triumph at her back.

The halls were still adorned with campaign posters. Kirishima's expensive, glossy, full color headshots stood in stark contrast to Ikari's low budget and often voter-created imagery. Asuka passed by one, a crude mock-up of an Eva silhouette with the now iconic "Vote Ikari" running along its back. She tore it off the wall and threw the tattered remains down the hall.

"That idiot."

She made her way to the second floor auxiliary teacher office, home of Ikari campaign school headquarters.

"Here you are," she growled.

Shinji was inside, cleaning the office for regular use again, gathering campaign supplies and sorting them into piles by the door for proper disposal. Hikari was with him, lending a hand. How dare she. Asuka was the one that deserved a friendly shoulder and/or a patient ear that needed to listen to how outrageously unfair her life was.

"Stop helping him," Asuka told her friend. "He doesn't deserve it."

"Um, we're almost done," Hikari said, trying for a peaceful middle ground, "so I'll be right with you—"

"It's okay," Shinji said as he worked. "You've done enough already. Thank you."

Faced with polite and not-so-polite orders to cease and desist, she wilted. She joined a seething Asuka by the door.

"Well, then, we'll see you later—" Hikari tried, silently pleading for a quick, quiet departure.

"You must have heard," Asuka addressed Shinji. "The vote is in, and Kirishima's reign is now official. Great job at tanking a sure thing. You must really love being a passive, subservient, ambitionless slave. Kirishima's leash must be so comfortable. Well, she can't tell me what to do. I didn't vote for her."

"You just said she won the election," Shinji tried to remind her.

"She ran unopposed," Asuka said. "That's not winning. You can't win if there's no one to beat."

She watched as he cleaned and sorted campaign paraphernalia, all destined for the furnaces. His movements were quiet and direct, showing none of the depressed guilt or responsibility he should have felt.

"I hope you appreciate the severity of what you've done," she explained to him. "All the crap we're about to face is on your head. And everyone in school will know it. Don't expect me to save your pariahed butt from the mobs with pitchforks and flaming torches."

Shinji did not respond.

"Maybe it won't be so bad," Hikari piped up, trying for optimism. "Even if Kirishima implements more work, we could form a study group and—"

"That isn't the point," Asuka spat. "The point is this idiot lost his nerve. He wussed out and didn't do what was necessary. He refuses to do what needs to be done."

Shinji straightened a pile of paper.

"All that matters is winning. Not being fair, not being nice. Results determine reality. But he'd never know that. His responsibilities don't mean a damn to him. I put myself on the line and he failed. He ran away from it all. Like always."

She glared at him, daring him to react.

Shinji cleaned.

Asuka strode towards him and kicked over the stack of papers he was sorting, spilling sheets and posters across the floor. Hikari was stunned into being a spectator. Shinji exhaled. Shinji rose.

"Ikari?"

They all turned. Mana Kirishima stood outside the office doorway, flanked by Musashi and Asari.

"Hi," she tried again, stopping short of entering enemy territory. "I was hoping I could—"

"Ditching your own victory parade to gloat?" Asuka shot at her. "How tasteless. You really are a politician. You can work on pruning your enemies list later; we're busy."

Mana spoke past her: "I was hoping I could speak with you, Ikari. Do you have a minute? In private?"

Shinji looked at Asuka. For permission, for an excuse, for absolution. She offered none.

"Don't let us peasants interrupt, your highnesses," she said, grabbing Hikari and making to leave. She dragged her feet, waiting for Shinji to stop her. He didn't.

She stormed away down the hall. Then abruptly stopped at the corner and spun, pinning herself to the wall to eavesdrop. She issued a sharp gesture to Hikari for silence. Despite herself, Hikari complied.

They peeked around the bend and watched Mana dismiss Musashi and Asari with a gentle smile. They shrugged and headed back to the auditorium, leaving her alone with Shinji. She took a deep breath.

"I finally have an excuse to talk to you," she told him. "I mean, outside the election, and away from our staffs." She smiled with mixed emotions. "I don't think Ms. Soryu is terribly fond of me."

"About all that," Shinji began. "Try not to take it personally. She just really wanted to win."

"I bet she does." Mana made herself relax. "But I'm not here to talk about her. I wanted to thank you, Ikari. I heard about what you said at your last rally."

"Oh. Um, I only did what I thought was right."

"It was very noble of you to take responsibility like that. That's the kind of moral compass I'd like to keep near me, er, as president. I want to offer you a position in my administration."

That took him by surprise. "I uh, I'm not really that good at politics, or stuff like that."

"Half the school might disagree. Why do I get the feeling running for president wasn't entirely your idea?" Mana wondered aloud with a friendly grin.

"Is it that obvious?"

She laughed good-naturedly. "Just a little. But you applied yourself to the task. You adapted pretty well, even if it wasn't something you truly wanted to do. I know the feeling." She smiled with bright kindness. "Even if we can't always act on what we want right now, it's important to work towards them. You must have hopes and dreams for the future, things you want to do. We aren't trapped in this place forever."

"I don't really know about that," Shinji demurred. "I mean, I have to, you know, be a pilot. I always assumed I'd have to stay here until they told me otherwise."

"Challenge that assumption!" Mana encouraged him, taking a step closer. "Piloting might pay the bills, but is it what you want to do forever? Things can change every day, for everyone! Even me. And… and even you."

She noticed how close she had strayed, and scooted backwards.

"So… think about it, okay? I'll be waiting while you figure it out."

Shinji made a thoroughly puzzled face.

"Oh, my," Hikari whispered under a blush, listening in on them.

 _… the hell is this?_ Asuka thought beside her. Suddenly, Kirishima's actions during the election made sense. Her lack of aggression at Shinji's insurgent candidacy, the kid gloves at the debate, and her passivity in the face of a smear campaign. Exactly what kind of deviant monster was just elected president?

Mana left the auxiliary office, heading after Musashi and Asari. Shinji watched her depart before he returned to cleaning. He wore a face of quiet contemplation. Hikari was still red and distracted over implications. Asuka seized the opportunity to decide they were leaving, and tugged her along.

Soon the school was an afternoon shadow at their backs. Mana's victory still hung in the air, bolstered by Shinji's passive refusal to admit fault. Let him try and clean up his failures alone. Let him burn it all. Even when only ashes remained and he pushed it from his mind, Asuka would remember.

"Say," Hikari began, recovering after a few blocks, "about what—"

"Don't," Asuka said, and Hikari didn't.

They parted ways. Asuka watched her head home. She didn't want to hear any half-hearted absolutions from her friend. How could Hikari properly grasp the severity and depth of Shinji's failings when she was willing to still aid him this afternoon? Maybe bringing her on board was a mistake. Maybe the whole campaign was.

No, Asuka thought. That was dangerous thinking. This debacle was entirely Shinji's fault. She did her best to make him succeed, for once in his life, and he spit on her efforts.

She arrived back at the empty apartment and collapsed on her bed, staring at the ceiling, regretting ever deigning to help Shinji better himself.

/\/\/\/\

The apartment was silent orange under a sunset glow when Shinji returned from school. Misato was pulling a double shift at NERV, managing to steal a minute in between to phone her regrets to him about the campaign. She urged him not to be disappointed, but look at it as a learning experience.

Asuka saw it as a learning experience: she learned once again Shinji was totally unreliable in a clutch situation. And that Kirishima was an even more treacherous weirdo than she appeared. In one sense, they deserved each other, a loser and a freak. Then again, Asuka also felt assured neither one deserved to ever experience happiness.

The sun was dipping below the ring of mountains surrounding the city. It was late, and Shinji was nowhere near the kitchen, magicking dinner. Just because he utterly failed her in one arena, didn't excuse him to stop working in all the others.

She didn't find him in his creepily tidy bedroom, and the bathroom was free. She saw the balcony drapes pulled aside in the living room and slid the door open. Shinji was reclined against the building wall, plugged into his SDAT, watching the day end.

Asuka kicked him in the thigh. "It's after six. Get your unelected butt in the kitchen and make dinner."

"Oh. I didn't realize it was that late."

She observed his somber appearance as he packed the SDAT away. "Finally feeling some guilt over tanking the election? I can't believe I wasted all that time and energy on you, just so you could throw it away."

"But it wasn't right to benefit from those rumors. I didn't deserve to win like that."

Where was this hitherto unobserved virtue coming from? He should know, in their business, it was kill or be killed. Lofty ideals of fair play and even odds were a fool's pipe dream. The victor determined what was right and wrong.

"Is that what Kirishima talked to you about today?" she asked. "That your aborted triumph was ill-gotten? What a spoiled brat."

"No," he said. "She offered me a place in her administration."

"You turned her down, of course."

"Yeah." He peered out at the darkening city. "She talked about finding what I want to do, I think. And that others shouldn't decide it for me."

This was not a thinly veiled swipe at her puppet mastery of his dead campaign. He appeared not to have grasped Mana's full intimation. Just as well.

"I don't want to go into politics," Shinji told Asuka.

"That's what you were cloistered away out here, thinking about? How long did it take to reach that obvious conclusion?"

He colored a shade in embarrassment. "It's important to know what you don't want to do."

"Not liking something and being horrible at it are two different things. Kirishima can get as philosophical as she wants, but it won't justify the changes she's about to make on the school, and on us. I get that her life sucks, she's a nobody with nothing to offer, and she wants it to change. But she's going to force everything to change with her."

Shinji glanced at her. He fidgeted. "I don't want _everything_ to change."

Asuka rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you blew your chance to stop it. Nothing will ever be the same." She turned on him. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Why are you just standing there? Get inside and make dinner, stupid."

"Oh! Right. Sorry." He hurriedly rose and ducked inside. He paused beneath the threshold. "Asuka…"

 _Don't you dare apologize to me_ now, she thought. _I will throw you off this balcony._

"Thank you," Shinji told her, "for trying to help me."

Asuka watched him continue on into the kitchen and begin cooking. He worked with efficient dexterity, and soon the twilight apartment was awash in sweet smells. Asuka closed the balcony door on it.

"Try is the operative word," she grumbled to herself.

You can try all you want, but there's no helping a lost cause. Shinji's sudden backbone over political skullduggery only confirmed how lost he was. How on earth had his priorities gotten so skewed? It wasn't fair for him to stand up for himself when it negatively impacted her life.

The sun sank ever lower. Electric pinpricks of light dotted the darkening world. Asuka hugged herself against the chill air. A tap on the glass balcony door startled her.

"Dinner's ready," came Shinji's voice.

She paused, holding the handle. A dull, warm glow seeped under the door to spill over her feet. This miserable feeling of frustrated regret had no place hanging around her. Kirishima's political and personal machinations, Shinji's deluded sense of justice, even Hikari's blindness to observable idiocy were all beneath her. Their collective weaknesses had no right to infect her.

She nodded to herself with renewed purpose. Asuka was the best, so she knew what was best. It was up to her to make everyone else know that, too. The election Shinji lost was not reason to give up on him, but to redouble the efforts to change him, to make him see what was so painfully obvious.

She opened the door into the apartment for a dinner she knew would desperately need her input to be its best the next time he made it.

/\/\/\/\

End

Author notes: I know I'm overusing Mana as a plot device, but she's so convenient.


End file.
